


Don't Cha

by Selly87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco Malfoy is a Tease, Established Relationship, Lapdance, M/M, Muggle Life, Pole Dancing, Present Tense, Singer Draco, Songfic, The Whomping Willows, famous draco, muggle travel, pussycat dolls - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: Draco Malfoy pulls out all the stops to ask the world: "Don't'cha wish your boyfriend was hot like mine?"





	Don't Cha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JulzSnape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulzSnape/gifts).



> First things first, many thanks to my lovely, and ever so patient beta (this fic is dedicated to you) who indulged all of my flights of fancy, supplied valuable feedback and made a great effort to turn my raw nonsense into something readable! Especially because I, for some inexplicable reason, decided to write this fic in the present tense.
> 
> When you get the chance to see one of your favourite musicians live in concert, chances that you end up oddly affected by the whole show, are high. Being the Drarry fanatic that I am inspiration promptly struck when my favourite musician and the lead dancer started fooling around between songs (even though they literally have nothing in common with either Draco or Harry!). Needless to say, my mind was instantly full of Drarry and unable to control myself I shared my thoughts with the folks over at "DRARRY: Fanfiction and Fanart". A wonderful discussion followed and somehow I ended up with a challenge to write something about famous!Draco.

With a frustrated huff, Draco Malfoy slumps into the oversized window seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “What a complete and utter waste of time,” he mutters under his breath as he returns from a visit to the lavatory. “Fifteen hours on a fucking plane when a portkey would get us back to London in less than two minutes.”

Rosalyn is itching to get up from her seat and read Draco the riot act. Harry can tell, she looks thunderous, even if she’s trying to hide it and Harry can’t help but be grateful that she knows the truth about Draco. It’s always the same old story with Draco and aeroplane travel. At this stage he’s a pro at it, manages to find his way through an airport as if he’s done so all his life —  _not that he has to because Rosalyn takes care of everything when he’s on the road_  — but he is very vocal about his discontent with Muggle transportation.

Trains Draco accepts —  _apparently, they remind him of the Hogwarts Express and that makes them alright_. Cars he hates with a passion. They are slow, can’t fly, and are inconvenient to park, he always moans, also they make him sick. ‘ _It’s not like you can hit them with a Shrinking Charm and stuff them in your pocket_ ’ he once told Harry who had a hard time biting back his laughter.

Out of all the Muggle modes of transportation, planes are the worst though. Despite being in a position to enjoy the pleasure and comfort of a private jet, Draco still can’t wrap his head around the invention. He knows it’s a necessary evil but that doesn’t stop him from complaining. At this stage, Harry, Rosalyn, and everyone else who’s part of Draco’s promotional entourage is used to it.

Still, most of them would love for Draco to shut up and stuff his complaints, but they are too professional to say anything. Instead, they listen to music or pretend to sleep. Rosalyn sometimes reprimands Draco but today even she’s hesitant.

They wrapped up the Southeast Asian leg of Draco’s concert tour yesterday and Harry knows that the real reason Draco is this sour isn’t because he’s stuck on a plane with no way of escaping the blasted flying metal box. Harry knows that Draco is unhappy about having to return to England.

Throughout the last month, he and Draco got to take advantage of a distinct lack of Daily Prophet photographers stalking Draco, recording his every move —  _or Harry’s for that matter_. Instead, they got to somewhat openly enjoy each other’s company, hang out by the swimming pool, go shopping, and even have a couple of romantic dinners. They had basically enjoyed being openly affectionate, just like any other couple.

Once they arrive in London, Harry knows, this won’t be possible anymore. When they get off the plane he will quietly go through immigration on his own, then head to the Magical Transportation Point and apparate to their house, while Draco will make his way through the airport, together with his bodyguard and Rosalyn. There will be fans waiting for him, there always are —  _how they know when Draco gets where is a mystery to Harry, it’s not like anybody shouts it from the rooftops_. Draco doesn’t mind the waiting fans, he’s a sucker for the attention, loves taking pictures with them, and signing autographs. No matter how exhausted he is, he always stops. But it also means he won’t get to spend any time with Harry, at least not until he gets home.

Harry has been at Draco’s side long enough to be able to read his lover like that.  _The price of fame,_ Harry muses. Nobody knows about them, not even the wizarding community. They know Harry Potter, of course. Who doesn’t know The Boy Who Lived, The Saviour, The Chosen One? They have too many names for him, he thinks. They also know Draco Malfoy. Son of a former Death Eater, somewhat of a snobbish prat but adored by millions of fans around the world for his music. Beyond that, they know nothing about them.

They don’t know that Harry and Draco have been a couple for longer than Draco has been famous, though they do know that the two of them have long since put their Hogwarts rivalry behind them. They know that they are civil with each other and they have come to expect that the two of them sometimes hang out together. That is, however, all the press knows and even Rita Skeeter hasn’t written any outrageous rumours about a possible romantic liaison. Draco gets away with being single because he’s famous and too busy to date.

Harry sometimes gets a bit of stick for his permanent bachelor status but he doesn’t comment and the Daily Prophet reporters have grown tired of asking the same questions over and over again. They made a big fuss over Harry Potter coming out as gay but that was years ago and now nobody cares.

The whole secrecy thing had been Harry’s idea. Draco’s natural talent —  _something even Harry had known nothing about until he’d heard him sing for the first time_  — had resulted in Draco taking the world by storm. His boyish good looks had most definitely also played a huge part and that smile and those eyes hadn’t only charmed Harry Potter, but pretty much every female muggle and at least half of the gay population, across the globe. The wizarding world is slowly catching on to the phenomenon that is Draco Malfoy, and his music is now played in many wizarding bars, pubs, and clubs around the country. His fame amongst wizards and witches is a far cry from the fame he enjoys in the muggle world, but he's getting there.

In the beginning, the record label had insisted that Draco present himself as single. They hadn’t cared that he was, in fact, gay and dating a superstar in his own right, but they had advised Draco that any kind of romantic attachment would greatly influence his record sales and potential fan base. Draco had been apprehensive about it at first but Harry had been supportive, willingly taking the backseat, letting Draco have all the limelight to himself. Later on, they had slipped into a kind of easy routine. Harry, pleased to be in the shadows for once, and Draco being Draco had positively relished in his rapid rise to fame.

The whole thing does put a strain on their relationship sometimes —  _especially when they can’t see each other for long periods of time_ — but somehow they always manage. Sure, they fight, and sure they have on one occasion drawn their wands, prepared to duel, but secretly Draco needs Harry to be his rock, needs a little bit of normality amongst all the madness. He needs it as much as Harry needs to know that people care more about Draco Malfoy than they care about Harry Potter. At least in the wizarding world.

Harry shakes himself out of his reverie and motions for Rosalyn to stay in her seat. Apparently, she’s decided that enough is enough and she clearly wants to give Draco an ear bashing —  _she’s much like Hermione in that way_. Harry has a better idea. He pushes himself out of his seat and drags an oddly shaped case out of the overhead compartment above his seat. He opens it up and frees his guitar from its confines with one swift move.

When you have a famous boyfriend and no day job —  _at least not one that demands your sole attention every day_  — to distract you, you have a lot of time to learn new things. Harry has played the guitar for years now, has even been up on stage with Draco at one of his shows once —  _granted hidden behind a strong glamour_  — but he has been there, has been part of the madness that has become the norm for Draco.

Harry strums a few chords and Draco leans forward in his seat and turns his head, an expectant look on his face. He’s quiet now, having stopped his rant as soon as Harry started playing the guitar. Harry grins at him. He takes a moment to tune the guitar, then starts strumming away. Draco is now listening with rapt attention. He still feels disgruntled about being stuck on a plane, but this time at least he’s stuck with Harry Potter, and somehow that makes it all better.

Harry Potter, who saved the wizarding world from the doom of the Dark Lord. Harry Potter, who stood up for him when his own father tried to throw him under the bus during the Death Eater trials in front of the Wizengamot. Harry Potter, who he’s been shagging for years now and whom he frequently gets all maudlin with. Draco blames it on all the love songs he sings to his fans, they have made him go soft in the head, he’s sure of that. There simply is no other explanation for his lack of snarkiness and at times shockingly Gryffindorish behaviour.

 _**Draco Malfoy, what's your problem?** _   
_**You're lookin' kinda mopey and forlorn today** _   
**  
Draco Malfoy, what's your issue?**   
_**Do you need a hug or maybe a tissue?** _ __  
**  
Draco Malfoy, level with me**

Harry falls silent, inserts a guitar solo and uses it as an opportunity to walk up to Draco. A thought strikes him and he continues the song.

 _ **Draco and Harry sitting in a tree**_ **  
**_**S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G**_ **  
**_**Draco and Harry sitting in a tree**_ ** _  
_**_**S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G  
**_  
Draco can’t help himself. He bursts into laughter —  _real, unrestrained laughter_. The kind his fans don't get to hear. His belly hurts and his eyes water. Breathing is a tremendous effort and he holds his sides panting for air, not getting enough because he can’t  _sodding_ stop laughing.

He desperately wants to beg Harry to stop singing, to stop playing the guitar but Harry is now stood right in front of him, essentially serenading him. Draco has never heard this particular song before. He’s sure Harry penned it only recently. Apart from playing the guitar, he’s good at that too. Harry can do just about anything when he puts his mind to it. Over the years Harry has discovered a hidden talent for song-writing — not that it surprised Draco much to discover Harry had a hidden way with words — and if one checks some of Draco's album sleeves carefully one will find that quite a few of Harry's songs have found their way onto Draco’s records. Harry writes under the pen name James F. Prongs, a little joke only he and Draco understand.

Draco really wants to ask Harry about the song but Draco can’t get a word in edgewise because Harry adds more lyrics —  _this time making it about himself_  — and he has to laugh again.

 _ **Harry Potter, what's your deal?**_ _ **  
**__**Are you having trouble with the feelings that you feel?**_ _ **  
**__**  
Harry Potter, give us a sign**_ _ **  
**__**You can't commit to Ginny**_ _ **  
So what do you have in mind?  
**__**  
Harry Potter, don't be shy**_ _ **  
**__**You got no luck with women**_  
****_So perhaps you need a guy_

Harry breaks for another guitar solo and Draco finds himself fondly remembering that night a long time ago.

He had helped Harry realise that Ginny was the wrong sort of companion for him, the wrong gender even. A lot of Firewhisky had been involved, and he’d dared Harry to kiss a bloke. Harry had made a spectacular embarrassment of himself and somehow Draco had ended up taking pity on him —  _or possibly had been too drunk to care, Draco isn’t so sure now_  — and kissed him soundly in the centre of the dance floor of a muggle gay club. Draco also remembers how Harry had taken offence at Draco stealing his first gay kiss from him. It had taken weeks of grovelling on Draco’s part to get back into Harry bloody Potter’s good graces...

 _**It's Draco and Harry sitting in a tree** _   
_**S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G** _   
_**It's Draco and Harry sitting in a tree** _   
_**S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G** _   
_**It's Draco and Harry sitting in a tree** _ **_  
_ ** _**S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G** _

Draco involuntarily slides out of his seat, kneeling on the floor and clutching both his belly and his sides as he tries to control his laughter and, more importantly, his breathing. He’s gasping and wipes a few tears from the corners of his eyes. His stomach muscles are so sore, but despite all the discomfort, Draco’s sour mood has all but disappeared. Suddenly Draco can’t think of a single reason why being stuck on an aeroplane for fifteen hours is a bad thing. He has all he needs with him; Harry Potter is right at his side and in his opinion, that’s all that matters.

He’s once again convinced that all the love songs, he croons to his fans, have damaged his ability to be a snarky Slytherin, but right now he doesn’t care. Not much anyway. He is also preoccupied with the side effects of his uncontrollable fit of amusement. Draco’s life resembles, on a normal day, a mad roller-coaster and having Harry to ground him, to cheer him up, to serenade him as they fly high above the clouds, means more to Draco than all the millions in his bank account and all his adoring fans put together. 

Harry puts the guitar away and pulling Draco to his feet, he isn’t at all surprised when Draco pulls him into a fierce hug, kissing him soundly. Harry allows himself to melt into the kiss and as Draco’s arms wrap themselves around his shoulders, and his fingers start to play with his unruly hair, Harry wraps his own arms around Draco’s lithe waist, pulling him a couple of inches closer. Their bodies are pressed up against each other and their display of affection is quite inappropriate but they don’t care. Everyone around them knows about their relationship, and although they tend to mock them when they get overly excited, most of the time they just turn a blind eye to those affectionate displays of love.

Several minutes pass before Draco and Harry eventually pull themselves apart, sink into Draco’s seat and cuddle close. Another benefit of flying private —  _the jet’s seats are big enough to comfortably accommodate two people_. Their fingers entwine and Draco rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. He gazes out of the window but doesn’t take in any of the beautiful clouds. He’s suddenly miles away, thinking about something he should have done years ago.

“Feel better now, Malfoy?” Harry drags him back to the real world. They still occasionally use each other’s last names, something nobody can comprehend, but they don’t care enough to explain themselves to anyone.

“Yeah,” Draco nods. “When did you write this nonsense?”

“Just now,” Harry grins and lifting his head, Draco rolls his grey-blue eyes at him.

“ _S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G_ ,” Harry spells and Draco shudders.

“In a tree... I’d forgotten all about that time,” Draco chuckles softly.

“I remember, it was...” Harry falters, clearly thinking of the right word to describe the experience.

“Hotness high above the ground?” Draco offers and Harry nods in affirmation, happy to leave it at that. He’s preoccupied at the moment and his fingers slowly trail down the buttons of Draco’s white muggle shirt and come to a halt just above the top of his jeans. Draco inhales sharply, fondly remembering the times when Harry would drag him to the plane’s lavatory for a quick, hot shag. At the beginning that had been Harry’s method of distraction, now it is music, and if Draco is honest he prefers the latter. Not that there's anything wrong with sex on an aeroplane, but even he has to admit that getting frisky isn’t the answer to every problem. Again, he blames his music for going all soft in the head.

“Sometimes I wonder how I am famous and you’re not,” Draco sighs.

“I am famous,” Harry insists, looking mock-offended at the idea that nobody knows who he is.

“You know what I mean,” Draco rolls his eyes again and before he can say anymore, Harry kisses him soundly.

“I wouldn’t survive a day in your shoes,” Harry laughs. “Did you read some of the banners at the show last night?”

“I did,” Draco grins. “One said ‘ _Draco, rock my world_ ’,” he laughs and it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.

“‘ _Draco, let me tame your dragon_ ’ was one of the less hardcore ones I saw.” Harry chuckles. “Then there was ‘ _Let me suck your banana_ ’, ‘ _Your sex is on fire, give it to me good_ ’ and ‘ _You blow my mind, let me blow your cock_ ’ and also a couple procreation requests. I am continuously amazed at how many women want to carry your child.”

“I should really start reading these out during the shows,” Draco grins, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’d think those Asian fans would be a little more reserved, but they’re just as filthy as the fans back home.”

Harry laughs and, moving his head so that his mouth brushes against Draco’s ear, he mumbles something seriously filthy. It beats all of last night’s banners. Draco shudders and his eyes darken instantly while his jeans become that little bit more uncomfortable. He suddenly envies Harry for wearing loose tracksuit bottoms... Draco sucks in a sharp breath, Harry’s hand cups his growing erection through his jeans and he can barely stop a moan from escaping. He desperately wants to cast a few spells but he knows he can’t. His magic is powerful enough to mess with the plane’s navigational systems and he’d rather they land the muggle way instead of crashing into a mountain range, or worse, sinking into the Pacific Ocean.

* * *

“So, what do you think?” Rosalyn asks after she’s told Draco all about the rather unusual concert venue and the great opportunity for him to showcase his music to an exclusive wizarding audience.

“It’s different,” Draco muses. “To be honest, I’m a little shocked that the Ministry has given the green light for this kind of venue, but I guess it’s about time that Diagon Alley moves with the times.”

Rosalyn smiles. “Took the owner long enough to get permission, but I hear he’s got the backing of a rather well-known wizard and that guy got the Ministry to back down.”

“Who?” Draco asks with visible intrigue.

“No idea.” Rosalyn shrugs but it’s a lie. She knows all too well who’s involved in the project but has been sworn to secrecy. Her job demands that she doesn’t blab and she prides herself on being discreet at all times. It’s why she’s been in charge of Draco’s promotional and concert tours from the very beginning and it’s also the reason why Draco considers her a friend. That, and it helps that she’s a witch.

Sometimes, when Harry isn’t around to ground him and it all gets a bit much, he needs her to bring order into the madness. No matter where they are in the world, she always slips him the latest copy of  _The Daily Prophet_ , has Draco’s favourite wizarding sweets at hand, and always manages to find a fireplace for him to floo-call Harry from.

They have tried conventional methods like video chats and phone calls, but no matter how much time Draco spends in the Muggle world, he still prefers to communicate using magic. It’s in his blood, in his bones.

The record label has, of course, insisted on Draco getting Twitter and Instagram and that has been a steep learning curve for Draco, who sometimes still looks positively terrified when his mobile phone rings to announce a call or a message.

He is a good sport about it all and has admitted that muggle tools of communication indeed have some advantages, but having grown up in the wizarding world, Draco prefers what he truly feels comfortable with. The floo, apparition, and portkey travel come naturally to him, more natural than the internet and anything else muggle ever will.

“Do you have any ideas for the show?” Rosalyn’s question draws Draco back into the present and his eyes almost immediately sparkle with excitement.

“I do,” he nods and reaching for his phone, he makes use of the internet and with a few skilled motions, he finds a picture online. He enlarges it and shoves it over for Rosalyn to look at. Her eyes grow big, and she has a wicked grin on her face as she looks up at Draco.

“Draco Malfoy, you’re one dirty, dirty man!” she states and Draco suggestively raises his eyebrows with a smug grin on his face.

“I also have another idea,” he adds, positively gleaming with excitement.

“What?” Rosalyn asks curiously.

Draco excels at live performances. He knows how to breathe life into a show and his fans love him for it. Rosalyn knows his idea is mad but she’s sure he can pull it off. If anyone can make it work then it’s Draco Malfoy. He’s got a flair for dramatics when it comes to his shows and while he loves just sitting on a chair with a microphone in his hand, he loves getting all dolled up and putting on the show of a lifetime just as much.

Draco rises from his seat and walks around the table. He leans forward, rests his hands on the table top beside Rosalyn and whispers into her ear. Her eyes grow wider and wider, her mouth drops open and as Draco finishes, she swallows hard.

“Bloody hell,” she says. “Are you sure the Daily Prophet can handle that?” she asks, already thinking of the possible headlines and the moving pictures that will be splashed all over the front pages for weeks to come. “Are you sure he’ll be alright with that?” she asks with a flicker of uncertainty and Draco laughs.

“Of course,” he nods. “He’ll be a bit uncomfortable about it and probably a little mad about me not finishing the job but he’s a good enough sport to go along with it.”

“As long as you’re sure...” Rosalyn says. “Just promise me one thing: tell the record label first. This is not something you want them to find out from the tabloids. They will eat you alive, especially Roger.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Rosalyn, sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

“Sometimes I think so too.” She grins and they both laugh. Draco asks about Priscilla, his favourite dance coach. Rosalyn is sure she can make arrangements and Draco is relieved. Priscilla is a muggle but she is a devil on the dance floor. The magic she works only needs music, no wand swishing required.

* * *

“Harry, I really think you should tell him, you know,” Hermione says with a frown. She has just finished going over the last few contracts and everything appears to be to her satisfaction, except the fact that Draco knows nothing about Harry’s latest venture, which puts Harry’s mind at ease. If Hermione can’t find a fault with the contracts, then it’s highly unlikely that there is one.

Ron and Harry exchange glances but Harry knows that his best friend isn’t about to speak up against his wife. Then again, Harry doesn’t need him to —  _he can handle himself just fine_. Hermione means well and it’s in her nature to worry.

“I will tell him, but not until he’s finished his rehearsals for the show,” he says. “He doesn’t need any distractions; he’s frustrated enough as it is at the moment. I’ve never seen him this on edge. Merlin knows what he and Priscilla are cooking up."

Draco has been very secretive this past week, and at this stage in their relationship, Harry knows when to ask and when to be patient. For the moment, he knows from experience, patience is the safer option.

“You’re playing with fire,” Hermione sighs but doesn’t push the subject any further. Harry is quite aware that it takes her a great deal of effort to do so and he’s grateful. He doesn’t say anything though, instead, he squeezes Hermione’s shoulder and tells her to go home. There is nothing wrong with the contracts and no reason to keep her any longer than absolutely necessary. She deserves an early night in the company of her husband and their unruly —  _but utterly adorabl_ e — twins.

“Come on, ‘Mione,” Ron urges. “I’m sure Mum could do with a break; the twins have probably driven her bonkers already.”

“They drive me bonkers too,” Hermione says with a wicked grin but there’s no malice to her words. She gave birth to them after all. Harry thinks she’s allowed to moan a little every now and then, not that she’s the type of woman to frequently do so. She’s quite besotted with her children and years in Ron’s company have made her more relaxed and humorous.

Hermione sorts the contracts, then rises to her feet and gives Harry a hug and a kiss. After Ron and Harry share a brief hug, he and Hermione leave through the floo. Harry is grateful for the silence and gathering up all the contracts and other paperwork, he carries them into his study, careful not to mess them up in any way. He knows Hermione will have his head if he does. After that, he makes his way into the living room and settles on the couch with a good book.

He knows Draco will be back late but he still wants to wait up for him. Even if Draco won’t tell him anything about the showcase he’s putting together with Priscilla, a group of dancers, and his faithful band. Under normal circumstances, Draco isn’t this secretive and usually allows Harry to join him for tour rehearsals.

This time, however, Draco is planning something big and he won’t divulge any information. Harry has tried to get Draco to surrender but to no avail. Draco is keeping mum and Harry has resigned himself to the fact that he’ll just have to wait until Draco is good and ready.

* * *

“Stop, stop, stop! What on Earth was that?!” Priscilla yells and cuts the music. “Draco, your hand and foot coordination is a  _mess_. I’m amazed you haven’t broken any bones yet,” she scolds and Draco groans in frustration. Ordinarily, he would hex anyone who dares to talk to him like this but in this room, Priscilla is the boss and he's merely a pawn in her game.

He gives in to the pull of gravity and drops to the floor, beyond exhausted. These past few days, Priscilla has been working him to the bone, and while the dance choreography for the upcoming show is coming together rather nicely, there are still many kinks that need to be ironed out. They still have time but Draco is nervous. Once or twice he has had doubts about his plan and even confided in Rosalyn, wondering if he’s doing the right thing. She has assured him that he is and it put Draco at ease but he is still worried that he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

While the record label has cautioned him about his Big Bang approach to the matter, they have indeed given him the green light, allowing him to go ahead with his mad plan. He knows he is playing with fire, but he believes it’s the right thing to do. He can feel it deep down, but his mind is still in turmoil. Draco blames it on rehearsals and tells himself to confide in Harry tonight. He needs a little bit of reassurance and he doubts that Harry will try to talk him out of his plans.

Priscilla claps her hands and Draco is instantly pulled back into the present. He rises to his feet, coats his sweaty hands in talcum powder and returns to his starting position. Priscilla adjusts his grip and pose slightly and when she’s happy she motions for her assistant to restart the music. The by now familiar tunes fill the dance hall and Draco allows himself to be swept away. His moves along to the rhythm, losing himself in the beat. He knows he can do this. He pours absolutely everything he has into his performance, allowing determination to take over.

This time Priscilla doesn’t stop him. She allows him to finish the entire performance and when the music fades out, she claps, walks up to him, takes his sweaty face in her hands and gives him a sloppy kiss. Draco grimaces at the unwanted affection but goes with the flow. He knows it’s Priscilla’s way of praising him. She graciously allows him to have a rest while she goes over a few moves with his backup dancers. Draco is grateful: he aches all over and is completely parched. Some cool water and a couple of minutes of rest are just what he needs before he is ready for another gruelling round of dance practice.

Sometimes he thinks that the only way to get through Priscilla’s training is to down a vial of  _Felix Felicis_  and some  _Pick-Me-Up_ , but then he remembers all those times he has already pulled it off and banishes the thought of relying on a potion to do his job. He inwardly laughs at the ridiculousness of that idea. He has grown up with magic, has used it all of his life, yet when it comes down to it he chooses the tedious muggle way. Draco blames it on his career and spending way too much time among muggles.

He reaches for his phone and taps out a quick message to Harry, then opens Instagram and takes a snapshot of Priscilla and the dancers hard at work. He adds a brief comment, then hits _post_ , knowing his fans will appreciate the gesture. He hesitates for a moment, then takes a selfie and posts that too. His lips curl into a smile when he reads Harry’s response to his message, and without a second thought, he answers with a cheeky smiley face, then puts his phone away again and downs half a bottle of fresh spring water.

* * *

“Lights down, spotlight!” Carl shouts and Draco straightens up a little more. He takes the microphone from Carl’s assistant and, holding it comfortably and with practised ease, he takes his position. As the music fills the dance hall, he allows his eyes to fall closed. He silently counts the beats, then raises the microphone to his lips at the perfect moment.

He still thinks that Carl’s idea for him to attempt to cover a U2 song is mental but he also can’t deny that the song sounds bloody good. Admittedly, he firmly believes that Bono’s voice suits the song better than his own but Draco is determined to make the song his own, even if it’s just for one night. He also has a rather selfish reason for wanting to give the performance its best shot. These days, Harry is a bit obsessed with that Irish rock band and while Draco blames Seamus Finnegan for leading his lover astray, he can’t deny that the two men have good taste. The song is a bit rockier than Draco is used to, but Rosalyn thinks a cool black leather jacket, a snug white t-shirt, and a nice pair of tight-fitting black jeans will do the job.

Draco also desperately wants to wear a set of modern dress robes for one of the sets and Rosalyn is doing her best to make arrangements with the designers. It’s not like he has never done it before and what with the venue for his showcase being a wizarding club, he knows he needs to make at least a bit of an effort to fit in and give the crowd something they can identify with. They aren’t a bunch of muggles who usually go crazy when he steps on stage and he fully expects them to be a bit more reserved.

 _The Daily Prophet_  has done a good job of keeping the wizarding world informed about his career in the muggle world, but Draco is still sceptical about exactly how enthusiastic the crowd at the show will actually be. This will be the first time that he performs a full concert in an exclusive wizarding venue and though he suspects that his worries might be unfounded, he can’t help himself either way.

* * *

“I swear, I will  _Crucio_  you if you even think about stopping,” Draco sighs. Dance practice has been especially torturous today and he’s happy to finally be at home and with Harry. He is convinced that none of his previous tours has ever required this much effort and he’s never felt this tired before. Harry knows better but he also knows when to shut up. Instead, he had a bubble bath ready for Draco to sink into and is now dutifully massaging sore muscles, expertly easing the tension out of them. He has wisely laced the massage oil with a muscle-relaxing potion and it’s blindingly oblivious that this is exactly what Draco needs.

Rehearsals are taking their toll and by now Harry knows just why Draco is pushing himself so hard. He supports Draco completely in his endeavour and has told him so too, but he feels that there isn’t much he can do to ease the stress Draco is under. Then again, it seems a bubble bath and a massage are enough of a treat for Draco. At least for the time being. In Harry’s opinion it isn’t much, but if it’s good enough for Draco, who is usually notoriously difficult to please, then it’s good for Harry.

“Don’t worry, I can do this all night,” Harry reassures, though it’s a bit of an overstatement.

His hands are a little sore already —  _and his fingers might start cramping soon_  — but he can last a little longer. He adds more oil and continues to work his magic on Draco’s shoulder and back. He can feel the tense muscles grudgingly give away underneath his persistent kneading and every so often a content sigh or appreciative moan escapes Draco’s lips. Draco is floating somewhere halfway between consciousness and the land of dreams.

Harry is pretty sure that Draco is going to fall asleep on him in the next ten minutes: twelve hours of gruelling rehearsals every day for three weeks will do that to even the most experienced singer and dancer. While Harry knows about Draco’s plan to officially come out of the closet during the showcase, he doesn’t know any other details. He suspects there's more but Draco still won’t divulge anything and Harry has given up asking, resigning himself to being kept in the dark. He is curious but he’s also patient, at least when he has to be.

He has given into Hermione’s persistent urging to tell Draco about his involvement with the club that Draco’s showcase is taking place at, and much to his astonishment, Draco isn’t fussed either way. It doesn’t matter much anyway since Harry wasn't going to be involved in the day-to-day management of the club, he made that very clear to Seamus when he signed on as a silent partner. He was willing to use his notoriety to speed up the process of getting all required permits from the Ministry of Magic - the backing of one Harry Potter does still mean something in the wizarding world, after all.

When Harry really wants to be, he’s about as influential as when Draco publicly supports a muggle charity. Granted, he doesn’t often milk his status as  _The Boy Who Lived_  and  _The Saviour of The Wizarding World_ , but when he does, it is for a good cause. Harry deems a gay club a good enough cause to sign his name to it. Just as Draco deems it a good cause to sign his name to various muggle charities, though lately, Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children is especially close to his heart. This lapse in sanity he blames on Harry Potter, who always drags him to all sorts of family occasions where he finds himself surrounded by children. Over the years they have wormed their way under his skin and Draco cares more about them than he dares to admit to anyone but Harry.

* * *

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Draco mumbles, pacing his room backstage. He has just finished an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet, ominously hinting that tonight's performance will be one for tomorrow’s front page headlines, and now that the reporter has left, Harry has joined him backstage. He hopes his presence offers silent support but Draco is as antsy as can be.

He usually gets this way before a show but having a good few years of experience under his belt, he generally just gets mild bouts of the jitters. Tonight he can’t seem to sit still and even Harry is at a loss as to what to do. Rosalyn has chosen to keep her distance; she could practically feel Draco's anxiety in the room, and Harry thinks it might not be the worst decision. Draco seems unpredictable and who knows: he might even pull his wand if cornered.

“You better be somewhere I can see you the entire time,” Draco suddenly snaps his head around and fixes his gaze on Harry, who involuntarily shudders and sinks further into the sofa cushions. Distance, definitely. He nods and bites back a smile, knowing Draco will probably misconstrue it in some way. For a moment Harry contemplates offering a nerve-calming potion but he’s sure Draco will turn it down.

“I need you there,” Draco states and it's then that Harry decides that distance isn’t the right remedy here. He gets up and boldly ventures into the lion’s den. He’s a Gryffindor, after all. He takes Draco’s hands in his own and squeezes them gently.

“I’ll be there,” He affirms and Draco visibly relaxes a little. “You know, if you don’t want to do it, you can just give them a mind-blowing show and leave it at that.” Harry hopes his words are as supportive as they are meant to me and is relieved when Draco nods.

“I’m gonna do this, I’ve been in the closet long enough and not because I’m ashamed of being gay, but...”

“But because millions of muggle girls love you and want to have your babies,” Harry finishes the sentence and Draco grins.

“How come you don’t want to have my babies?” He asks and Harry frowns.

“You are aware that I’m kind of missing a womb here, are you?” he inquires, and Draco laughs.

“Don’t tell me the great Harry Potter doesn’t know that male wizards can get pregnant? It does require some vile tasting potions but it is doable.”

“Malfoy, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Oh yeah, I have a secret boyfriend, didn’t you know, Potter?”

“Didn’t. Is he hot?”

“He looks a bit like you, to be quite honest.”

“I see. Back to those potions for a moment. Exactly how do you know they are vile-tasting?”

Draco rolls his eyes in that way that only Draco Malfoy can and sighs. “For the fact that you’ve saved the wizarding world from the Dark Lord you are astonishingly ignorant about traditional wizarding customs. Did you read any extracurricular books at Hogwarts at all? Wait...don't answer that!”

“Oh, your royal highness, please forgive my lack of knowledge on the matter of magical procreation,” Harry mocks and Draco gives him a positively icy death glare. “Maybe I should get a banner for the show —  _Draco Malfoy, put your bun into my oven_.”

“Why, Potter, I didn’t know you  _wanted_  to carry our children?”

“Are we seriously going to talk about us procreating and who is going to carry our offspring ten minutes before you’re due to head out on stage?” Harry asks. He can’t help but wonder just where their conversation has gone wrong. All he had wanted to do was to distract Draco from his nerves, although, he supposes, he has kind of accomplished that task.

“Maybe you’re right, let’s continue this conversation after I’m officially out of the closet,” Draco grins. “Can I have a kiss for good luck?”

“Since when do you have to ask?” Harry chuckles and he wraps his arms around Draco’s shoulders. With a swift move he draws Draco closer and they share a slow kiss. They aren’t in any rush to move things along. Moments like these are rare and they cherish these stolen moments before Draco’s shows.

On tour, Rosalyn always makes sure they are undisturbed before Draco heads out to meet his band and dancers. During promotional events and radio tours, it’s somewhat more difficult for them to share a quiet moment, but Harry usually finds a way to apparate into Draco’s hotel room, courtesy of Rosalyn’s careful planning. Sometimes being a wizard really does come in handy.

Eventually, they do break apart and, pulling Harry closer, Draco buries his face in Harry’s neck and inhales deeply. If only Harry knew...

A few moments later, Rosalyn knocks on the door to remind Draco that it’s about time and Harry chooses to give Draco a moment to get ready.

“See you later,” he smiles and with one last kiss, he vanishes from sight, intent on finding a nice spot from where he can watch the show. He’s quite excited about what Draco has put together with Priscilla and the rest of the crew and as he makes his way to a small VIP alcove by the stage where he joins Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Pansy, Dean and Blaise, he can’t help but wonder exactly how Draco’s and his life will change after tonight.

Draco choosing to end all the speculation about his sexuality and all the rumours about possible girlfriends is definitely going to have an impact on his career and his fan base. Harry knows from experience that muggles have very different opinions on people being gay and he desperately hopes that Draco’s fans will choose to support him unconditionally. He is glad that Draco has chosen to come out in a wizarding gay club, as the wizarding world doesn’t put much of an emphasis on a wizard’s or witches’ sexual preference —  _unless of course your name is Harry Potter and you killed a Dark Lord_ , then it’s a topic the Daily Prophet debates on its front page for weeks on end.

Still, being in a familiar environment should definitely make things easier for Draco, though the media circus that will follow tonight’s show will be out of this world. Then again, it’s not like Draco isn’t used to a media circus. He can regularly be found on the front pages of various Muggle magazines. Sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally.

* * *

“The place is packed!” Draco exclaims after taking a peek through the curtains. The sound coordinator fits him with the wireless transmitter for his microphone and Rosalyn is pulling on his outfit. Draco doesn’t particularly like it, but he lets them do their job. He takes a deep breath and another glance past the curtain. He can see Harry standing with some of their friends and it instantly calms his nerves.

Soon his dancers gather around him and his live band joins them too. Together, they go through their little pre-show ritual. They stand in a tight circle, hug and wish each other a great show and Draco mumbles an ancient good luck charm. They can’t understand the words and the charm doesn’t actually do anything but it has become part of their ritual and Draco never forgets. Then the lights finally go out and as they pull apart and move to their positions the crowd outside goes berserk. Draco can hear the deafening roars despite his earpiece and then everything becomes a bit of a blur.

The curtain disappears, the stage lights flicker on and Draco’s band starts to play. His dancers storm onto the stage, small fireworks explode and seconds later, Draco follows them, emerging from a cloud of smoke. He can feel the adrenaline surging through him and as he raises his microphone to his mouth, he knows he’s made the right decision about everything. Even the massive surprise he has for Harry.

* * *

“He’s on fire!” Seamus shouts into Harry’s ear as he leans close and Harry nods. He’s seen Draco up on stage many times over the years but something is different tonight. There is an aura about him, he’s positively glowing and he has the crowd eating out of the palms of his hands, today even more so than usual.

Harry can barely believe his eyes and suddenly he’s grateful that Draco kept hush about the entire show because today Harry feels as excited as everyone else in the audience. Everyone in the club is dancing to the music, laughing and enjoying themselves. The reporters from the Daily Prophet can’t seem to stop taking pictures and even Harry has snapped a few photos with his phone. He doesn’t expect them to be any good but he wants a memory of the show, something to hold onto forever. He doubts he will forget anything about tonight but he couldn’t help himself.

Today, Harry doesn’t just feel like he is Draco’s secret partner-in-crime, he feels like he’s one of the fans, and seeing Draco this excited makes Harry fall in love with him all over again. Harry’s heart swells and it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Merlin! You guys are on fire today! Are you having a good time?” Draco has stepped out onto the stage again and as the crowd screams and applauds, Harry pushes all his musings aside and allows himself to be swept away. “I’m so excited to be here tonight to perform for all of you,” Draco continues, walking further to the edge of the stage.

“Tonight, … tonight is the first time I get to do a whole show for you and wow, just wow!” Draco pauses to wipe some sweat from his brow and smiles brightly.

“Honestly, I was worried you guys mightn’t like this, you know, I spend most of my time performing for muggles, but oh wow, you guys blow me away. You all turned up for my show, you brought your partners, spouses and friends along and I’m so excited that I get to spend tonight with you!” Draco pauses again and looking around the audience he takes in all the happy faces, smiling up at him, and he instinctively seeks out Harry. They share a very brief moment, then Draco turns his attention back to his speech.

He has powered through most of the show, delighting everyone some extravagant dance moves, catchy mid-tempo songs and of course a selection of his best ballads. His U2 cover was a great hit and now, with more than half of the show already over, Draco knows it’s time for his biggest surprise yet. But first, he needs some water. He reaches for his water bottle beside the piano and takes a refreshing sip and with the bottle still in his hand, he continues his speech.

“You won’t believe how bloody scorching it is up here, folks. Those cooling charms are utterly useless. But, anyway, Diagon Alley’s very own gay club, how exciting is this?” Draco laughs and the audience cheers with delight. Someone shouts “Draco Malfoy, marry me!” and laughter erupts. Draco grins and resisting the urge to look for Harry, Draco continues his speech. “A kiss I can do, marriage might be a little harder to— “

Before Draco can finish his sentence a handsome young wizard near the front shouts “Kiss me,” and Draco laughs. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?” He jokes but he is a good sport and blows the young man a kiss anyway. “Right, as for the rest of you, don’t be getting mopey now, there will be more opportunities later. For now, I have some news I’d like to share with you all.”

Draco falls silent and, in a bid, to stall, he puts the bottle of water away and fidgets with his microphone. He can’t help but glance into Harry’s direction and is relieved to see him smile supportively. “This is harder to put into words than I thought it would be...” Draco pauses for a moment and is grateful for the audience’s continued patience.

“I haven’t strictly kept this a secret. I’ve been honest with myself for many years and my friends know how I feel, but when you choose to live your life in the spotlight you aren’t awarded quite as much freedom as you’d like to have. You have to make sacrifices, and I made two very big sacrifices. In the beginning, I was happy not to share this particular part of me with everyone but over the years, I’ve fallen into a kind of comfortable routine and somehow changing said routine has become less and less of a priority. I want to change that tonight.

“There were moments when I really wanted to shout it from the rooftops and moments when I literally cursed not having taken this step sooner.” Draco pauses for another moment and looks around the audience. They all appear to be listening with rapt attention, but Draco still expects somebody to shout out a silly comment. His expectations aren’t met, nobody says a word. They all seem to understand that this is Draco’s moment and his moment alone. Draco cannot begin to fathom just how grateful he is.

“When I got asked to perform here tonight, to officially bring my music to the wizarding world, it felt like a sign, like someone was trying to tell me to do something outrageous and, given the venue, I figured telling all of you that I am in fact gay would do the job…”

With the words finally out in the open, Draco doesn’t quite know what else to say. He feels nervous and suddenly worries whether he has made the right choice but before he can worry himself crazy, the crowd goes ballistic on him. They clap, they whistle and they cheer louder than Draco has ever heard anyone clap, whistle and cheer. In fact, he’s not sure how the roof hasn’t blown off yet.

Despite the overwhelming support, he can feel the tears threaten to fall. He doesn’t at all feel sad and he wants to remind himself that he is Draco Malfoy and that Malfoys don’t cry, at least not in public, but he can’t quite keep his composure. His eyes feel wet and he knows he is crying. He wonders why he isn’t mortified about his public display of emotions and seeking out Harry, he finds that his boyfriend his also clapping and cheering, supporting him just like everyone else is. On top of that Harry’s vibrant green eyes shine with love and Draco chokes on a sob.

Suddenly, he desperately yearns for Harry to stand by his side, to hold his hand. It doesn’t feel right that he’s standing here and Harry isn’t. He beckons for Harry to join him and the brunette’s eyes widen questioningly. Draco nods and moving towards Harry, he stands at the very edge of the stage and holds his hand out.

Harry doesn’t need to be asked twice, he can tell that Draco really wants him up there with him and he has no second thoughts about the world knowing about them. He swiftly moves out of the VIP alcove and heads behind the stage. A moment later he appears at Draco’s side. The audience gradually falls silent and Draco moves both himself and Harry back towards the centre of the stage.

“I trust you all know who this fine gentleman is?” He asks and the audience chants Harry’s last name until Draco manages to get them to quieten down. “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?” With Harry at his side, Draco suddenly feels like he’s back to his old self. “Potter, how often do you work out?” He asks and holds the microphone out to Harry so that everyone can hear his answer.

“A couple of times a week,” Harry grins and Draco rolls his eyes.

“Handsome  _and_  modest,” Draco laughs. He turns his attention back to the audience and asks if anyone fancies the great Harry Potter.

Quite a few hands go up and Draco clicks his tongue in pretended disapproval. The amusement on his face is, however, fairly evident.

“Mr Potter here and I had somewhat of a complex relationship throughout our time at Hogwarts. Those of you unfortunate enough to have witnessed said relationship will know exactly what I’m talking about, and as for the rest of you, how do I best explain it? Potter, care to help me out here?”

By now, somebody has handed Harry a microphone and Draco doesn’t need to share his. A simple amplifying charm would have also done the trick but the club’s policy states that everyone must surrender their wand prior to entry. Therefore, Harry and Draco, along with everyone else in the audience are wandless.

“How detailed would you like me to be?” Harry teases affectionately. Draco rolls his eyes but doesn’t actually respond. “Fine, let’s just say Mr Draco Malfoy here went out of his way to make my life miserable — very, very miserable.”

“Now you’re just being plain mean,” Draco huffs and the audience laughs at their easy banter. “I have to admit though, Harry isn’t entirely wrong, I did cause him a lot of trouble.”

“You still do,” Harry says boldly.

“Potter, you dimwit! I had a whole speech planned about how we put our differences behind and became friends and...”

“Why don’t you just cut this long story short and tell everybody that you’re crazy about me. I mean that’s is your intention, right? You want them to know that I’m your boyfriend, don’t you?” Harry says with a smirk that’s worthy of a Slytherin.

“I was going to serenade you…” Draco protests even though it isn't true. He enjoys how easy it is for Harry to adjust to the situation and how right it feels that people are about to know that this gorgeous man is his and will continue to be his for the rest of their lives. Originally, his plan had been to surprise Harry by inviting him up on stage and telling everyone about their relationship, but then his coming out speech had made him emotional and now nothing is going according to plan. But, Draco decides, this doesn’t matter.

“You still can, if you want to,” Harry laughs.

“I think that moment has passed,” Draco deadpans.

“Shame…”

“I do have a very special surprise for you and everyone else, though,” Draco grins mischievously, and in an instant, Harry is just a little worried about what Draco has planned. “I will serenade you after all, but not in the traditional way.”

“I am terrified,” Harry says, but Draco ignores him. Instead, he motions for one of the stagehands to come up on stage with a chair. Once the stagehand has placed the chair in the centre of the stage, Draco invites Harry to take a seat and Harry reluctantly agrees, then Draco turns his attention to the audience.

“All right guys, for those of you who are still trying to catch up, yes Harry Potter and I are an item and we have been for many years. This man has stood by my side as a friend, partner, and soulmate through just about everything and I’ve never once heard him complain. Today I’d like to give him and you a very special treat, but you’ll have to give me a couple minutes to get ready. So, I’m gonna head backstage and I’ll be back in just a few moments. In the meantime, do me a favour and keep an eye on Harry Potter here, won’t you? Don’t let him escape.”

The crowd cheers and Draco takes that as a yes. As he walks off stage he takes a big breath to calm his nerves. He only has a few moments to get ready and then it’s time to put all of the hours of practice to the test. He is nervous but the adrenaline that’s coursing through his body keeps his worries at bay.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry patiently remains seated in the centre of the stage. He idly wonders whether he should address the audience, maybe joke around with them a little until Draco returns, then realises that without Draco he doesn’t really know what to say and therefore chooses to remain silent.

He does frown when three stagehands carry a large steel pole on stage and secure it. A moment later, when Draco steps back on stage, Harry can only gasp. Draco has changed into a pair of incredibly tight black leather trousers, a tight Slytherin-green tank top, and a black leather vest with an emerald-studded collar. His right wrist is adorned with a black diamond-studded leather wristband and a silver bracelet, in the shape of a snake, is wound around his left forearm. Harry thinks he can hear the snake hiss repeatedly but he’s too focused on Draco to pay any attention to what it might be saying if it is, in fact, saying anything at all. Everything about Draco screams Slytherin and sex and Harry likes it, really fucking loves it.

Draco has forgone his shoes and as he takes his position in the centre of the stage, the audience goes stir crazy. They whistle, hoot, and shout racy comments. Draco moves his hips in such a suggestive manner that Harry can feel his trousers tighten uncomfortably. He is sure that he isn’t the only one who’s having that particular reaction to Draco’s playful teasing. One of the techs has fitted Draco with a wireless headset and as he adjusts his earpiece a little, Draco addresses the audience.

“I’m gonna kick things up a notch, not only for you but also for Mr Potter here, especially for Mr Potter here. Are you guys ready to party?” Draco doesn’t need to ask twice. The audience practically loses it and walking up to Harry, Draco rests his hands on the armrests either side of Harry’s chair and leans forward. His face is inches away from Harry’s and Harry sucks in a sharp breath.

“Are you ready for the show of your life, Potter?” Draco drawls and the sound of his voice travels straight to Harry’s groin. His cock twitches in its confines with excitement and anticipation and Harry thinks that he’s probably flushing.

Draco moves his face just that little bit closer and his lips almost brush Harry’s as he speaks again. “Don’t move, sexy,” He says and it takes Harry every little bit of self-control not to moan. He licks his lips and shifts in his seat. Draco uses his leg to push Harry’s legs apart and standing between them he straightens up. Now his groin is the only thing Harry can see and an intense yearning to yank at Draco’s leather trousers spreads through him. He wants what’s rightfully his and is almost ready to reach out when Draco moves out of reach.

As if on cue, the lights dim and a spotlight illuminates Draco. The music starts and Draco moves his hips to the beat. Green and silver fireworks go off and thick fog creeps up on stage. The beat of the music picks up and so does Draco’s dancing. He slowly moves closer to Harry and Harry isn’t sure whether it’s only Draco’s hips that are moving or whether the entire room is spinning. Either way, Harry is going stir crazy. His cock is twitching repeatedly and when Draco heavily breaths into his microphone, Harry really just wants to throw himself at Draco and shag him senseless right here, right now. However, as much as he wants to jump Draco, he also knows that he has no control over his legs and therefore wisely chooses to remain in his seat.

 _**I know you like me (I know you like me)** _   
_**I know you do (I know you do)** _   
_**That's why whenever I come around, you’re all over me** _   
_**And I know you want it (I know you want it)** _   
_**It's easy to see (It's easy to see)** _   
_**And in the back of your mind** _ **_  
_ ** _**You know you should be dancin' with me** _

As Draco starts to sing, Harry thinks he might just come in his trousers. They are now so uncomfortably tight that it’s almost painful.

Draco moves closer again and stands between Harry's still spread legs. He shakes his hips suggestively and as he rests his hands on the backrest of the chair, he rolls his hips, provocatively thrusting them against Harry. This time Harry can’t suppress a moan and he licks his suddenly desperately dry lips.

When Draco pulls back again, Harry groans at the loss and Draco chuckles. He moves backwards and with a swift move, he stands to face the audience, then drops to his hands and knees and crawls to the edge of the stage. He sits back on his haunches, let’s his hands run down his chest and as he rests them on his thighs, he lifts himself up a little and thrusts his hips at the audience.

The randy rouses that follow are deafening and Draco suggestively pushes himself into a standing position. He rolls his hips, then shrugs the leather vest off of his shoulders. It drops to the floor and Draco kicks it out of the way. He continues to gyrate his hips, and while the audience’s eyes are fixed on his groin, Harry can’t take his eyes off of Draco’s arse. Those tight leather trousers leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and Harry sucks in a sharp breath as Draco suddenly does a backflip.

 _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?** _   
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was a freak like me?** _   
_**Don't cha, don't cha** _   
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was raw like me?** _   
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was fun like me?** _ **_  
_ ** _**Don't cha, don't cha** _

Draco lands steadily on his two feet and with his arms stretched out for balance, he takes two steps backwards, all while rolling his hips. He stands in front of the pole and leans back against at it, pushing the crack of his arse firmly up against the shiny steel. He knows Harry can see it from where he sits and that’s why he does it.

He moves his hands upward and wraps one hand tightly around the pole, then lets himself fall sideways. He steadies himself by loosely wrapping his right lower leg around the pole, then trusts forward, grinding against the pole. He brings his free hand up to the pole, then pulls himself up until he’s wound around the pole like a snake. He then drops one hand off the pole and letting his upper body fall backwards, then slowly slithers to the ground.

It is an effort to sing and concentrate on his pole dancing performance and Draco is grateful for all the extra practice he’s put in with Priscilla. He glances over at Harry, whose eyes are locked on him. Draco isn’t sure whether Harry is trying to stop himself from climaxing in his trousers or trying his hardest to refrain from jumping out of his seat to lunge forward and apparate them both out of the place.

Either way, Harry looks like he isn’t going to take his eyes off Draco any time soon. Neither is the audience for that matter and continuing on, Draco pulls himself up, moulds his body around the pole and once again pulls himself up above the ground. He tightens his stomach muscles and holds on firmly as he spreads his legs away from the pole. One hand drops away from the pole and so does his upper body.

A moment later he once again wraps both legs very tightly around the pole, pulls himself a little higher up and lets go. With no hands on the pole to steady himself, he falls back until he hangs upside down. His hands touch the ground and he slowly loosens legs, lets go of the pole and a moment later both of his feet are once again firmly on the ground.

 _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?** _ **  
** _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was a freak like me?** _ **  
** _**Don't cha, don't cha** _   
  
**_Don't cha wish your boyfriend was raw like me?_**  
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was fun like me?** _ _**  
** _ **Don't cha, don't cha**

 _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?** _ **  
** _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was a freak like me?** _ **  
** _**Don't cha, don't cha** _   
  
**_Don't cha wish your boyfriend was raw like me?_**  
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was fun like me?** _ _**  
** _ **Don't cha, don't cha**

The audience is both captivated and extremely riled up and Draco moves his hips so suggestively, he knows he’s sending everyone’s temperatures soaring sky high. Unperturbed by the effect, he has on his audience, he brings both hands above his head, firmly grabs the pole, and wraps one leg around the pole too. He pulls himself above the ground and twists around the pole with practised ease. Draco continues to wind himself around the pole, his body rolling with the beat of the song and the fans roar.

He then stills for a moment, slides down and dances over to where Harry somewhat squirms in his chair. Draco moves around Harry, then moulds himself into Harry and repeatedly grinds his hips roughly against Harry’s, virtually fucking him with his clothes on.

The loud moan that escapes Harry’s throat is for Draco’s ears only and as he straddles Harry’s thighs, he repeatedly causes delicious friction for Harry. 

Harry can’t help but thrust his hips upward and as they lock eyes with each other, Draco brings his hands to Harry’s chest. He rests them there and thrusts so sensually that Harry isn’t sure he is able to last. Draco is oozing sex and despite the large audience, Harry feels like it’s just the two of them.

Now he finally understands why Draco did not tell him anything about the show. Never in a million years would Harry have agreed to this very public display of, well, foreplay, and even though he wants nothing more than to free his cock from its confines and have Draco suck him off, he also wants to enjoy the show.

Draco is usually very sexual on stage, he knows that his female friends will go stir-crazy when he as much as moves his hips, but today tops everything Harry has ever seen. He tightens his hold of the armrests and doesn’t dare to let go, even though his knuckles are turning white from the effort.

When Draco separates himself from Harry and moves back, Harry can’t help but bemoan the loss. He stares, transfixed, as Draco slowly and teasingly twists his fingers into the hem of his tight, green tank top. A moment later he yanks at it and with only a little bit of resistance the clothing item gives way to reveal Draco’s toned chest and torso. He flexes his abs as he moves to the beat and Harry vaguely hears various people in the audience shout seriously filthy stuff. He wishes he too could tell Draco something filthy but he’s long since lost his ability to string together a coherent sentence.

 _ **Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?**_ _ **  
**__**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was a freak like me?**_ _ **  
**__**Don't cha, don't cha**_ _ **  
  
Don't cha wish your boyfriend was raw like me?  
**__**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was fun like me?**_ _ **  
**__**Don't cha, don't cha**  
  
_ As Draco returns to the pole, now only wearing his tight leather trousers, he takes things up a notch —  _if that is at all possible_  — and pulling himself up against the pole, he spins around it, then hooks his legs tightly around the pole and lets himself hang upside down. He grips the pole a few inches off the ground, draws himself higher with his feet, and takes a swing around the pole before his hands once again leave the steel. He stretches them out and, slides down an inch or so, then jumps to the ground. His hands stroke over his chest and come to a halt at his hips. He thrusts them forward, then drops into a crouching position and grinds himself against the floor with a complete lack of restraint. 

Harry is instantly grateful that he and Seamus included the no-wand-policy for inside the venue because he really wants to use magic on Draco to get payback for the torture, he is putting him through. Harry can’t remember when, and if, he has ever been this hard and he doesn’t know how the audience exhibits this much self-control over their own sexual desires. He risks a glance over to the —  _mainly male_  — audience and a few couples are heavily snogging each other but there aren’t any indecent exposures, yet. He lets his eyes wander back to Draco, who has jumped back onto his legs and continues to roll, twist, and thrust his hips in an even less appropriate manner.  
  
_**You know I love you (You know I love you)**_ **  
**_**I understand (I understand)**_ **  
**_**I know you love me (I know you love me)**_ **  
**_**You’re crazy about me (Crazy about me)**_ **  
**_**This lifetime (This lifetime)**_ **  
**_**Your secret is safe with me (Safe with me)**_

 _**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?** _   
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was a freak like me (like me)?** _ __   
_**Don't cha, don't cha, baby** _ **_  
_ ** _**Don't cha, alright, sing** _

_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was raw like me (raw)?** _   
_**Don't cha wish your boyfriend was fun like me (big thrills)?** _   
_**Don't cha** _ **_  
_ ** _**Don't cha** _

Draco is back by the pole and as he lazily holds on to it, he presses his body up against the steel, throws his head backwards, breaths the words of the song, then pulls himself up again. His feet leave the ground, higher and higher he climbs. Harry feels a little dizzy but Draco appears to feel right at home attached to that hard and unforgiving rod.

Draco moves into an upside-down position and with only one leg securely wrapped around the pole, he lets the other one fall away from the pole and spreads his arms as though attempting to fly. A second later his hands find the pole again and, holding on tight, he pushes his lower body away from the pole, then winds himself around it before he slowly slides to the ground as the beat of the song fades out.

Draco stands up straight and facing the audience, he bows deeply. With a chuckle, he steps to the edge of the stage. “I trust you enjoyed that?”

Harry can’t see Draco’s face, but he doesn’t need to see to know that Draco is smirking mischievously. At the innocent question, the crowd goes positively berserk. If the roars were deafening before, Harry doesn’t know how to describe them now.

Draco bows one more time and out of the corner of his eye, Harry can see the  _Daily Prophet_ ’s reporters practically fighting to snap photo after photo. He doesn’t want to imagine tomorrow’s headlines and is about to quietly slip from his chair and move backstage but before Harry can do so, Draco is at his side, offering him a hand. He takes it and allows Draco to pull him to his feet. He also lets Draco pull him to the edge of the stage and smiles stupidity as Draco’s arm wraps itself around his waist, pulling him close.

“If anyone had ever told me I’d end up famous and adored by millions of fans around the world, I’d have sent them to St. Mungo’s for a thorough mental examination. My childhood and teenage years did not lead me to believe I could have that kind of future, that kind of success. Harry’s and my relationship isn’t exactly a conventional one; for the benefit of my career we kept our love a secret and I stayed inside the closet longer than I should have, but from today on there will be no more hiding, no more secrets. I want the world to know who I am and who I love and I can only hope that people will support me in my quest to truly be myself. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all of you for being part of a night I will remember for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me and my music, I promise I will make it worth your while.”

Draco takes two steps back, pulls Harry with him and the curtain falls, hiding them both from view. Draco removes his headset microphone with practised ease and before Harry can react properly he finds himself engulfed in the tightest embrace of the century. He does what comes naturally and wraps his arms around Draco in return. For a moment they just stand there, hugging. The noise from the other side of the curtain is deafening but neither one of them cares. They stand hugging for the longest moment, then Draco pulls away and locks eyes with Harry.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry grins.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about this part of the show.” Draco does look genuinely apologetic and Harry simply chuckles.

“It was better this way. But you better make up for all the teasing later.”

“I promise I will.”

“Bring that snake bracelet,” Harry says and his eyes glint with mischief.

“I will.” Draco nods. “I have to go out there and do an encore.”

“Do that,”

“Wait for me?”

“Always.”

“Tonight, we’re going home together.”

“Hand in hand?” Harry asks.

“Hand in hand, out the front door, just like any other couple.”

“I’m not sure we’ll get past the reporters or your fans, but we can try,” Harry laughs and pulls Draco in for a heated kiss. They separate moments later and while Harry moves further backstage, Draco moves to the changing area just below the stage where Rosalyn is waiting with a pair of white jeans and a black button-up shirt.

* * *

“Rosalyn flooed over a copy of the magazine and printouts of all your favourite photos from the shoot,” Draco says as he leans against the door frame of their private sitting room.

The other, bigger, sitting room is for guests and the floo; this one is slightly smaller, not connected to the floo, and much more intimate. This is their space, one where they don’t entertain guests. In the corner is a flight of winding stairs that leads straight up into their bedroom and both rooms are designed to suit both their tastes. There’s neither a Slytherin nor a Gryffindor theme, but both rooms still combine both of their personalities perfectly.

“Give us a look,” Harry says from where he’s sat on the floor with his guitar. Draco has come up with a song and Harry has spent the morning trying to help his boyfriend to come up with a decent set of chords for it. They have made progress but have decided to get in touch with some of the songwriters who usually write for and contribute to Draco’s records.

Draco walks into the room and sinks to the floor. He hands Harry both the printed photographs and the magazine, then languidly stretches out amongst the sea of pillows. The room lacks a sofa but makes up for that with an extremely soft rug and more pillows than one can possibly count.

Harry puts the photos aside and flicks through the Muggle magazine. It doesn’t take him long to find Draco’s interview and their first ever official photo shoot together. It is, after all, a sixteen-page spread. Harry gets a little more comfortable and starts to read the article. He doesn’t notice how Draco snaps a photo of him with his phone and is, for now, blissfully unaware that Draco posts said photograph on Instagram with a cheeky comment.

Draco’s fans have been astonishingly supportive about him coming out. Ever since Draco’s promotional team posted an official announcement on Draco’s website, along with a photograph of them both, Harry has even been getting some fan mail. Even though the concert was two weeks ago, Draco is still on the front page of every single edition of the  _Daily Prophet_. The fact that he is gay isn’t a big deal, but Rita Skeeter and her team of reporters have a lot to say about the fact that Draco Malfoy, son of a convicted Death Eater and superstar to the muggles is dating one Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World and all-around heartthrob. Somehow the  _Daily Prophet_  keeps finding new things to write about their relationship, and Harry thinks that if they don’t back down soon, he might have to ask Hermione to sue. Or at the very least threaten legal action.

Up to now, the articles haven’t been too atrocious, but the reporters are insatiable when it comes to getting pictures of the two of them together. They have purposefully shown their faces in public but at this stage, leaving the house together is troublesome. A drink at the Leaky Cauldron or shopping in Diagon Alley is all but impossible.

* * *

“ _… Harry’s more of a homebody, he likes to stay at home and cook …_ ” Harry reads out, pauses and looks up to give Draco a pointed look. “I don’t cook and I don’t particularly enjoy staying at home doing nothing. I do things, you didn’t have to paint me as the house-husband,” He says with amusement.

Draco chuckles. “I had to explain the reason for your lack of employment somehow. Couldn’t very well say that you fought and won a war against a megalomaniac dark lord or that you’re the silent partner of a gay wizarding club, occasionally teach at Boarding School for Wizards and Witches and work as part-time Auror whenever it takes your fancy.”

“I do Muggle stuff,” Harry frowns. He thinks it odd that he, who grew up in a muggle family, spends more time in the magical world than Draco, who grew up blissfully unaware about muggle things.

“Yeah, like what?”

Harry thinks for a moment and, put on the spot like that, he can’t think about anything he does that could be considered a Muggle job. His gaze falls upon his guitar, and while that isn’t strictly a muggle thing to do, he decides it’s better than nothing. “I play the guitar.”

“Do you get paid for it?”

“Does you giving me a blowjob count?” Harry grins lopsidedly and Draco rolls his eyes.

“I’m not even going to justify that with an answer, Potter.”

“You made me sound like all I do is sponge off of you,” Harry says with a grimace.

“Do you sponge off of me?”

“No, but…”

“Well then, where’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s enough that the Prophet can’t stop writing about us; I don’t particularly look forward to the muggle press doing the same.”

“You knew it be this way though,” Draco says. He crawls closer to Harry, takes the magazine and resolutely flicks it into a corner. He ignores Harry’s protests and instead straddles his thighs and loosely rests his arms on Harry’s shoulders. He links his fingers at the nape of Harry’s neck and idly plays with a strand of his utterly unruly hair.

“As long as I have you, I don’t give a toss as to what the Prophet or any muggle magazine writes about you or us or me. What do they know anyway?”

“I think you care.” Harry smiles and Draco cocks his head sideways.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are Draco Malfoy,” Harry replies, his statement so spot on that all Draco can do is laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Trust Harry to see right through the sappy rubbish he sometimes spouts —  _definitely a serious side effect of serenading muggles as a full-time job_.

“It’s scary how well you know me,” Draco sighs, but his heart beats faster at the knowledge that he has a person by his side who knows him better than anyone. Sometimes he thinks Harry knows him better than his own mother, knows him better than he knows himself.

“Should’ve put that into the interview.”

“Did. You just didn’t get to that question yet,” Draco grins. He leans forward and uses his body weight for force Harry to lie down on his back. He bends forward and, bracing himself on his forearms, he presses his lips against Harry’s, demanding a kiss.

He doesn’t have to ask twice, Harry is so synced to Draco’s body that his body responds the moment he can feel Draco’s lips on his. They are in no hurry and for a while, they simply kiss leisurely. Harry brings his hands to rest on Draco’s hips and draws him closer against his own body. When they break away from the kiss, Harry has a wicked smile on his face.

“Don’t cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me?” He mouths, his vibrant green eyes locked with Draco’s stormy grey ones. Draco shudders and grinds his hips downward.

“Is that going to be our song now?” He laughs, fondly remembering the night he gave Harry a lap dance in front of the press and a club packed with mostly gay wizards.

“Probably. Though we might have to choose another one for the wedding. I’d rather not explain to our children exactly how we chose that particular song."

“Wedding? Children?” Draco echoes the words but doesn’t sound terrified at the idea of it at all, in fact, he feels all fuzzy and warm but he’s not about to divulge that piece of information. No, that is for another time and another place.

“You already painted me as the perfect house-husband. We might as well make things official and sign on the dotted line,” Harry winks.

“Harry James Potter, this better not be a marriage proposal!” Draco looks affronted. While they have never been religious about anniversaries and Valentine’s Days and all that sort, Draco knows in his heart that if Harry intends this to be a serious marriage proposal, he will turn it down without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it a bit more romantic, I promise,” Harry grins wickedly and Draco sighs.

“You better, Potter, you better.”

“Why? Won’t you marry me if I don’t?”

“What kind of idiotic question is that?” Draco rolls his eyes.

“A legitimate one, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. Just promise me you won’t include too much magic when you do pop the question. We have to somehow explain this to my muggle fans, after all.”

“I could ask right now, you know?” Harry teases and Draco shoots him such an icy death glare that he knows to drop the subject entirely.

“I have a better idea,” Draco says after a moment of silence. “Let’s play a game of don’t cha ….”

Before Harry can ask a cheeky question about the rules he finds himself upstairs and on their bed with Draco still on top of him and their clothes spelt away...

**Author's Note:**

> The first song used in this fic is "Draco and Harry" by The Whomping Willows and I in no way claim ownership of the lyrics. The second song used in this fic is "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls and again, I just borrowed the lyrics, I do not claim ownership.


End file.
